April 30

Even I said it to myself as I snapped this shot tonight: Oh, look. Another sunset pic from Sherry's back yard. Boo yah. And then I took a closer look at the image.

See, I was so focused on the place where the sun had dipped below the horizon that I completely missed the patches of bright pink further up in the sky.

I know I do that more often than I'd like to admit: I focus on what I can see in the right here-right now rather than trying to see the bigger picture. And had I not looked up this evening, I would've completely missed the blessing that was that seemingly random bright pick cluster of illuminated cloud.

So... be sure to look up. Always look up, beyond what you can see in front of you, because something much greater will be there.

April 29

I drove over to the Sports Park this afternoon to take a socially distanced stroll with my pal Sherrie and her pooch.

Although it made me a bit sad to pass by all of those empty baseball diamonds knowing what could have been this Spring, it was really nice to spend time chatting with my friend in person. I'd not seen her in a few months and personal connection is important to me, so it was a win. So tonight, I'll head off to bed feeling grateful for that time.

April 28

Today was, well, another day of sheltering in place. The kids did their school stuff, Adam worked, and I puttered around trying to find ways to be useful (with varying degrees of success).

Then this evening, while Adam and Abby took their father/daughter dance class in the family room, I decided to visit the boys. I found them in Isaac's room, huddled around Isaac's phone watching a clip about a video game they like to play. Since we'd already said good-night, they asked what I wanted, and I told them the truth: I just wanted to see my little boys again so I could talk to them and tell them I love them and give them more hugs and kisses. Fortunately, they were good with that.

I'm not (not) a fan of sheltering in place (at all), but I do like seeing my kiddos. So I'm grateful for the extra moments.

April 27

I (rather obviously) haven't been able to look for little Corvettes and cars-with-faces lately, so I lingered over the pegs of Hot Wheels at Safeway for a few minutes this afternoon. And I was totally gratified to find what I'd call a Logan-Lode of new ones:

Three flame jobs, a Hudson Hornet, and a new Corvette. A near-perfect kind of car day, and I am grateful for that, because he always feels a little less far away when new cars come out to play.

April 26

As has been the case for most church-goers of late, we've been watching our service online for about a month now. It made me smile when I walked by the family room this morning and saw this a few minutes before go-time this morning:

In case it's hard to tell just what I'm talking about, it's the trio of stuffed animals sitting on the kitchen table, faces pointed toward the TV screen in the family room.

I'm not entirely sure of who was responsible, but I love that the kiddos decided that their "friends" should go to church. And I kinda sorta loved sitting behind them as I ate breakfast and watched, because it kinda sorta mimicked the act of watching the service over others' heads (like I usually do, when times are "normal").

Familiarity can be sweet, can't it? I think so.

April 25

I've mentioned (whined) before that I'm not big on the whole concept of social distancing, so it's super exciting to me when I get to talk to friends.

And it's extra exciting when I can actually see them while we're talking.

I didn't actually mention to Nikki that I was taking a picture during our Google Hangout earlier today, but it was a Saturday highlight to me so it felt justified at the time. (Sorry Nikki. At least we were laughing at something, right?)

I really (really) miss connecting with other people, so it makes my socially isolated little heart happy whenever the chance to do so arises.

April 24

We had dinner on the patio (in the hot, blazing sunlight, which prompted me to suggest that we wait until after 6:30 to do so again in the future). Afterward, Isaac headed back inside the house. And then he started rinsing plates and cups and putting them in the dishwasher.

I know: big deal. My 11-year old loaded the dishwasher. Throw a party. But I was, in all seriousness, touched by the gesture because no one asked him to do it. It's one thing when I ask (or tell) my kids to perform a chore; it's another entirely when they just do one and then respond with a cheerful "you're welcome!" when I say thank you.

So for that bit of sweetness and show of self-driven responsibility from my middle boy, I'm grateful.

April 23

It wound up being a big delivery day at the (new) Wight House, as Brady's Chromebook, our dining room set, and our patio dining set all showed up.

Since Abby had dance (via Zoom, of course) and I was chit-chatting on the phone with a friend when dinner time rolled around, we ate in stages, but Adam called me outside at one point so I could check out the new patio table. It (obviously) has a fire feature, and it was kind of neat to see it flickering in the cool evening air. It's almost like being on vacation at home.

I'm not even sure where I'm going here other than to say that I although I really don't like sheltering in place, I'm very thankful that I get to shelter in place here. And I am grateful that God made it possible us to move just when we did.

April 22

Yesterday it was ducks. Today it was Abby eating a chocolate bunny with a knife and fork.

Since there are no "major" moments right now --no baseball games, no parties, no dinners out, no coffee dates with old friends-- my days are made up entirely of little moments like these. Since it's easy to forget little moments like the funny things my kids do, I'm thankful that our current world situation is giving me little else *to* focus on. Because if I've learned anything in my 42+ years, it's that life doesn't always turn out like you think (or hope) it will, so you should appreciate and live in all of the moments you're given.

April 21

We had an unexpected pair of visitors this morning.

We were all engaging in our usual weekday activities when Isaac called out "hey, there are ducks in the pool!" So, because we've been sheltering-in-place for over a month now and are very interested in all novelties, we all ran to the window to look, and sure enough, a duck couple was paddling their way across our pool.

We watched (and giggled and cooed and uttered amused exclamations, if I'm honest about it) as they floated along and then as, one at a time, they hopped out and onto the concrete. We (and the male duck) watched as the female preened for several minutes. And then they flew off (after Adam Googled 'ducks in pool' and discovered that duck poop is bad for us and chlorine is bad for ducks and encouraged them to depart).

I'm sure I've seen thousands of ducks in my lifetime, but these were by far the two most interesting ones I've watched to date. So although it's a very small thing, I'm thankful that they showed up to give us a wee break from the norm.

April 20

It was a decent day here at the Wight House. Although the patio table and chairs we'd been expecting didn't show up, it featured a stroll with Abby and another (distanced) walk with Angela, a (distanced) chit-chat with some of our (very friendly) new neighbors, and some post-dinner entertainment from none other than BearBear (powered by Abby).

I know I've said this before, but that girl of mine has the best comic timing and some of the things "BearBear" says are so funny that I literally bust out laughing.

So for those welcome doses of humor during a not-so-fun time, I continue to be grateful.

April 19

We've been very slowly moving our life from our old house to the new one, and today Adam and I took on one task that I think we'd both been avoiding: sorting through the boys' --including Logan's-- old clothes.

It was an emotional experience seeing all of those little outfits that were part of his "usual rotation" -- the soft, terrycloth baseball pajamas; the little blue Mickey Mouse one-piece that he wore to Disneyland; the Santa Suit he donned at four months old when we celebrated his first Christmas with Adam's family. And of course, the Lightning McQueen shirts; there were lots and lots of those. And we opted to keep most of them because letting them go felt impossible.

But it was a specific tank top that cut into Adam's memory the most and forced us to pause for a few minutes. I'm not great in those moments because at times it feels like I can't handle his emotion in addition to my own, but I hugged him anyway, and we stood there in front of the garage at the old house for a minute just sharing the pain.

No one wants to endure those deeply painful moments, but most of us suffer them anyway because they're part of living in this broken world. But it's a blessing when God gives us people who walk with us through those moments, so tonight, I'm grateful that we've always had each other.

April 18

I (jokingly) suggested to Abby that she see if she could fit inside the rather awkwardly shaped empty cabinet in the corner of our kitchen. After expressing a degree of doubt, she climbed inside and I closed the doors. When I opened them again, she was clearly amused to have found a new hiding place. And as truth has it, I found her there a few more times as the day wore on.

This may seem like a silly entry at first blush, but really, it's not. We all need those quiet places where we can go to be alone with God and our prayers and our innermost thoughts. A place where we can just be; where we know we won't be interrupted or distracted.

In our old house, it was the closet in our bedroom. When I was very young, it was the very warm spot in front of the running dishwasher. I'm not sure where my place will be in our new house, but I'll find one because though the precise place of solace changes over time, my need for it never has. And I'm guessing I'm not alone in feeling that way.

April 17

The boys have spent time in the pool every day this week. There's just something about the allure of the water that regardless of whether it's sunny or cloudy or 80 degrees or just 60, they feel compelled to finish their school work and then immediately ask if they can take a dip.

Today, I noticed that they'd once again taken a small bunch of their favorite stuffed animals out and seated them poolside, so I asked why, and they explained that they were giving them swimming lessons. My heart surged with affection for them.

I love that even though they're both good athletes who can kill it on a baseball diamond, at ages 9 and 11, they still love their stuffed animals. I love that they still play with them and that they still play with each other (when they're not fighting). I know these sweet early years won't last forever, so I'm trying to remember to appreciate them --truly, wholeheartedly treasure them-- every day.

April 16

The sunset tonight was pretty impressive.

I kept an eye on the changing skies as Adam and I took our evening walk (side note: with me in my pajamas, since I walked and showered this afternoon and getting dressed again felt like a chore). When we got home, I scurried up the 50 steps to the deck to get a panoramic look. As soon as I snapped what I thought would certainly be the best capture of them all, the clouds and the sunlight continued their fluid dance and created an image even more lovely that the last.

Even when the world is ugly and weird and uncertain and we don't know what tomorrow will hold, creation is still beautiful.

April 15

There are a wide variety of trees, bushes, and flowers in our yard, but I'm enthralled by the pair of rose bushes that frame the garage. I stopped to take a closer look at one of them after my afternoon stroll to the mailbox down the street.

It's just a rose bush, but it's filled with tiny buds that will, at some point, become fragrant blooms. And (and this is what makes them so interesting) I have no idea what color they'll be! Red? White? Pink? Orange? I can't tell. And I'm really excited to see what they wind up looking like.

That thought reminded me of an important truth. When times are hard or weird or confusing or just plain not what we wanted or hoped for, it can be easy to just give up. But it's important that we continue to view life with anticipation; with excitement over what's just over the next hill... or what's inside those tightly closed flowers-to-be.

April 14

So much has changed so quickly in recent history that, believe it or not, I was almost glad when this happened at the dinner table tonight:

Brady is a notoriously picky eater, so no one was remotely surprised when he turned up his cute little nose at the chicken pot pie we ordered from a local restaurant tonight. (Thumbs up to Salt Craft!) Long after the rest of us had finished and long after I dug in my heels and told him he could have it for breakfast if he refused to taste it, he sat at his seat, that displeased look of scornful disinterest on his face. Long story longer, he eventually got up and went along with his evening (and yep, that plate will show up at the breakfast table).

Although his pickiness is ridiculous, it's almost comforting in a way, because familiarity can make things feel more natural. So for that bit of strange comfort, I'm grateful.

April 13

Today was the last day of Spring Break. (I know, I know. The past month has been so nutso that I'm not sure how we even still had a Spring Break, but it's all good.) The (not so) short people had different ideas when it came to deciding how to observe the occasion.

Abby sauntered downstairs, flashed a recipe on her phone, and announced that she wanted to bake cream cheese and butter biscuits. Cool beans. I like biscuits. Shortly thereafter --after they'd gotten their fill of the latest video game they've tried to master-- the young male folk asked if they could go in the pool. Given that they nearly froze their toes off during yesterday's very brief initial dip, I was skeptical. But they threw a ball back and forth in the water for 15 minutes before I made them get out (because dude. That water is chilly).

Anyway, my point in rehashing my kids' exploits is this: I love seeing them do things they enjoy. I love that Abby picked out a new recipe to try and I love that the boys wanted to splash around in our new pool (even if it's not really pool weather just yet). So I'm grateful to have experienced those very mundane, everyday kinds of moments today.

April 12

Just because I was curious, I looked back at my entry from last Easter just now. And in that moment, I had a strange thought: I've come much further than I'd realized.

Last year's commentary was bittersweet, with threads of sadness weaved throughout the tapestry of an otherwise decent day. But this year's... this year's is blessedly different. It's a mishmash of lighthearted and joyful and even celebratory at times, with just a single thread of sadness woven into its cloth.

It began with cinnamon rolls and Easter baskets in the family room, and then there was church online and an egg hunt in our backyard under cloudy skies. (And The Bunny was super tired after climbing those stairs.) Since I am me and I treasure my pictures, I made my people pose for a few before we headed back inside. Here's one of the better ones.

The early afternoon hours brought a trip to the cemetery with I-love-you hands waved high at the sky and then lunch for the others while I got dinner --a pot roast-- into the oven. And then there were video calls with family and our first-ever dip in the hot tub, which --given that the sun had, by that juncture, driven the clouds away leaving nothing but an expanse of blue overhead-- wasn't nearly as unpleasant or chilly as I'd worried it would be. And then Adam and I took a turn around the new neighborhood, trekking down new streets we'd not yet explored, before the oven timer dinged and dinner was served. Then there was a pair of games of 7Up played around the kitchen table and --finally-- bedtime for the boys.

And now, as I watch the light blue sky grow darker through the high windows in the family room, I can close my eyes and nod and say with certainty that it was a good day. It was a blessed day of remembering that though Logan isn't growing older with us, he still is, and he is because of Jesus. Don't misunderstand me: I don't love that sweet Sunshine of mine any less than I did on the day that he was born nor the day that he died, but I know that our separation is a temporary one. I've always known that, of course, but the I feel like my conviction is stronger than it was a year ago. And given where I've been, that's a sure sign of amazing love in action.

April 11

Adam and I did some work at the old house today and then jetted around the Sports Park loop. Then later in the day, we picked up dinner and hit Walmart because I realized --in very last-moment style-- that we were short a few things for tomorrow. Since we're living through such an odd time, I figured I'd memorialize the trip with a quick pic.

This is how we looked as we headed inside the store. It's such a peculiar experience to cover my face and deliberately avoid getting too close to other people. And I know it's weird for all of us, because now and again, I'd find myself looking at someone and thinking 'shoot, too close' and then I'd look them in the eye and see an expression that said the same thing I felt.

Weird times for sure, but today, I'm thankful for the togetherness with my hunny and for the knowledge that this weirdness (prayerfully) won't be the indefinite norm.

April 10

I went for a socially distanced walk this afternoon with my friend Angela, who happens to be Abby's pal Gracie's mom and one of our new neighbors. She didn't want me to take a pic but I assured her that it was okay because she looked cute. AmIrite? I think so.

After weeks of isolating with my people, it was so, so nice to see a familiar face and to converse --from a distance, of course-- in person. (Because holy chickens, this social deprivation stuff is hard for people who identify as even a wee bit extroverted.) And it was also nice to take another route around our new neighborhood, which I have to say I'm loving so far.

Yep. The world's craziness aside, I still see God at work when I look.

April 9

I spent most of the day waiting for our bedroom set to arrive (which it finally did... well, most of it, anyway) so I didn't get to run Brady over to the old house to complete his first round of the "what do I want to keep" game. Instead, I did some laundry and some dishes and listened to the boys playing video games in the living room and watched Abby as she floated from her room to the kitchen to the patio out back.

At one point I looked up and saw her in the backyard sitting on the steps. I think she was probably texting someone or watching YouTube, but she looked so peaceful sitting out there that I snapped a pic.

So for tranquil moments like this one, I'm grateful.

April 8

It's close week for Adam, so that means he starts early and works late (though admittedly it's a bit different since he's doing it all from home). It also means that I'm (more or less) solely responsible for meals. Since I didn't defrost anything and the kiddos like Chick Fil A, that's what we got this evening for dinner. Abby came along for the drive.

Since I was driving Adam's truck (diminished battery plus a need to get gas made my car a risky choice), Abby enjoyed flipping through the radio dial and was particularly pleased when she happened upon our old country music station. So while we waited, we car-danced and sang along to old(ish) tunes as they played and, in general, had a jolly good time together.

During this strange time, I'm definitely thankful for the constants in my life -- including this girl of mine.

April 7

I took Abby over to our old house this afternoon so she could do some sorting in her room, and after I'd loaded my car with as many boxes as would fit, we headed back to the new house. (I want to say "home," but it still feels weird.) After I put away the items in said-boxes, I didn't do a whole lot until I decided to take an after dinner stroll.

I've already shared a few spaces inside the house and the view from the observation deck in the back, so I thought I'd show you the entrance. So, this is our front door. As I stood there looking up at it before my walk, I had two separate thoughts. The first was "holy cow, this house has a lot of steps." (And indeed it does. They're everywhere. My bum hurts at the end of each day from climbing up and down stairs.) And the second --and more important-- was "holy cow, this is so beautiful. And I get to live here."

It's definitely hard to feel a sense of gratitude when it seems like so, so (so) much is going wrong in this world, but I am incredibly thankful to be here. And I'm incredibly thankful that living here will allow me to welcome people into my home and to spend time with them. (Just make sure you're ready to climb some stairs when you get here.)

April 6

Our new house has these lovely hardwood floors throughout the main level. We've never had hardwood floors before so some of us have spent some time doing the Risky Business slide through the hallway and in the family room and the kitchen. And then this evening, as we dispersed to our post-dinner activities, Abby grabbed my hand and we danced in the foyer.

It's not unusual for us to do little modified waltzes (if you can even call them that), but it was our first dance in the new house, and courtesy of said-floors, it was definitely our slippy-slidiest one to date.

It was silly and ridiculous and fun. And given how tense times are right now, silly and ridiculous and fun things you can do at home are some of the best things ever. And they are most definitely blessings since you can't really be worried when you're in the middle of a guffaw, right? Right.

April 5

It rained (and rained and rained) today. Adam spent a few hours at the old house sorting and packing, while I stuck around the new place with the short people. Then, of course, we reunited for dinner at the kitchen nook (which is currently occupied by our own dining room table).

It was nice to sit around the table and enjoy a meal together. We haven't done that particularly often in recent years, partly because of Adam's work schedule and mostly because of the kids' activity schedule. So although I could think of at least 20 things to complain about right now, I'll choose in this moment to be grateful for the time we do have right now, even if the reason we haven't isn't one that I'd ever choose.

April 4

It rained intermittently today so that meant the boys didn't do much of anything except repeatedly ask if they could go in the pool (uh, no. It's 55 degrees) or the hot tub. (Another no, mostly because I didn't feel like dealing with the owners' manual to figure out how to turn it on and off. They were not amused by my lack of industriousness.)

But they were, fortunately enough, amused --for a short time, at least-- by eating breakfast in the currently empty breakfast nook off the kitchen.

A very small thing indeed, but small things can be good things, so I'm grateful for this one.

April 3

I think I've probably reached the point of mental exhaustion. I've been here before so I know the signs, and yep: go ahead and take attendance because I'm here.

My mom finally gave me the go-ahead to share the news of her colon cancer diagnosis; I've been living with it --mostly silently-- for, save a few mentions to a few people I hold dear to me, several weeks now, and to say that it's worn on me would be an understatement. But (with the aforementioned emotional state in mind) I can't really describe how it does feel, so I guess I'll just let that lie for now. Then this morning brought the news that her longtime partner, Harvey, had passed away at a nursing home. And my heart broke a little for her, knowing that she wasn't able to be with him, thanks to the awful conflation of events that include her own current stint in the hospital and COVID19.

I tried to distract myself with the busy-ness of moving (since today was the day we rented a truck and planned to haul all of our bigger pieces of furniture to the new house) but the sadness of it all --the God, where are You?! of it all-- cast deep, long shadows in my heart that try though I did, I couldn't fully illuminate with positive thoughts and prayers.

So as the hours of daylight grew thin, I stole away to the observation deck (as I think I'll call it) that sits at the top of our backyard and waited for the sun to dip behind the distant hills. A chilly breeze whipped around me but I breathed in that crisp air and closed my eyes and tried to find a central point that felt normal. It didn't really work, but I was reminded --as the orange faded to yellow and then blue and gray-- that tomorrow will be another day to try all over again. So for that chance and for this first-ever night in our new house, I am grateful. (And for your prayers and notes and messages, I am more grateful. Because this girl -- this girl is not built for social isolation. Especially not right now.)

April 2

This itty bitty tree may well be the most amazing thing in our new backyard. And I don't make that claim lightly because our yard --which features a pool, a waterfall, a hot tub, a built-in BBQ grill, an expansive patio, and stairs to an upper observation deck that offers up a panoramic view of the hills to the west (which means sunsets!)-- is truly, objectively spectacular.

So why is this one plant so significant? Well, when Logan died, we were given a tree that looked just like this one. We figured we'd move some day so we were both hesitant to plant it in the ground because we knew we'd never be able to leave it behind, so we did our best to keep it alive in its little pot. Eventually, our efforts failed and we were both so disappointed that we kept its little trunk in its pot long after its expiration. And then eventually-eventually, we let it go.

So as I surveyed the many different plants scattered around the property and found this tree there in its little blue pot, I just knew it was from Logan. For Logan. And it will always be a very poignant reminder that though we may feel some sadness over moving "without" him, he's actually with us --in that blue guest room and in that little tree and in many, many other ways-- regardless of where we go. And in this case, he was just waiting for us to find him.

April 1

Adam woke me up this morning with surprising news: although our paperwork was delayed and the transaction won't be formally recorded until tomorrow, the seller agreed to give us the keys to our new house today. So after we got the all-clear note from our realtor, we packed up the cars with some boxes and made our way across town.

We didn't get a whole lot moved on day one; we'll be doing it all ourselves over the course of the weeks to come, since COVID19 restrictions make it impossible to get help. But we did move over most of our clothes and a few pieces of furniture, and we did enjoy our first dinner in the backyard as the sun dipped toward the horizon: burgers (and hot dogs) from Nations. And it was delicious.

It's not the first time we've bought a home, of course, but it's always a little bit surreal to open the front door for the very first time as a new owner. It's like you're literally stepping into an all-new world filled with possibility and stuffed with the outlines of memories waiting to be made. It's a beautiful, beautiful thing, and I --we-- are thankful for what's been, what is, and what's to come.